Chapter 5 Criminals
CRIMINALS
RAE
“Cool,” I said without humor. “That’s cool.” I rolled my eyes and drew my knees to my chest, setting my elbows on them. Another power outage—because of course there was. I rubbed my eyes with my palms.
After sitting ten minutes without power, I slipped my necklace on, blew out the spare candles, and set two on the dresser before leaving the room.
I moved carefully down the pitch-black stairs. I needed my phone to check the outage map, so I headed for the kitchen, using the candle to guide my steps.
An enormous shadow crossed my path when I rounded the counter, making me yelp and stumble back. Hot wax splashed onto my hand as the candle slipped from my grip and shattered. “Son of a—”
The stove light blinked on when the power returned.
I almost swallowed my tongue; another scream lodged in my throat as my gaze connected with olive-green eyes set beneath a heavy, puckered brow.
The giant staring down at me looked almost… uncomfortable, like he hadn’t expected me either.
He resembled a Norse Viking with his long brown hair—half pulled into a man bun with braids along the sides of his head. But he wasn’t dressed for a break-in. Casual jeans hugged his thick thighs, and a plain green T-shirt fit across his broad chest.
How was he not wet from the rain? And what was he doing standing in my kitchen in the middle of the night?
“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” My voice didn’t tremble, but my knees did.
The tanned man, with shoulders broad enough to make Thor proud, stepped forward. He grasped my elbow, sending an electric jolt up my spine. As if he felt it too, his eyes widened, and he released me, scratching his trimmed beard.
“The glass,” he said, his deep, rumbling voice edged with a breathy quality. He nodded toward the shards near my foot. I’d almost stepped into the broken glass.
“Um. Thanks? I think.” I looked at the wax dried on my skin, and he followed my gaze. “Wait—no. Seriously. Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” My eyes slid to the phone on the counter.
Glass crunched to my left, snapping my attention back. I shrieked when I spotted a tall man standing at the end of the counter.
His eyes narrowed when our gazes collided.
Instinct made me step back, ready to bolt for the door. I needed to get to my neighbor’s house and call the cops.
As soon as pain shot through my foot, I realized my mistake.
Before I could fully react to the glass in my foot, brawny, tattooed arms scooped me up and placed me on the counter. The long-haired man flipped on the kitchen light.
“I told you about the glass.” He bent in front of me, lifting my foot, and frowned up at me. “Why didn’t you watch where you stepped? What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” I screeched. “Who the fuck are you guys, and why are you in my house in the middle of the night?” I swatted at the man when he lifted my foot higher to inspect it, squirming to put distance between us. “Don’t touch me!”
“Stay still. You’re bleeding.”
“You’re ignoring my question.” I needed to get my cell phone and call the cops.
“No,” he drawled. “I’m not giving you an answer because I don’t have one to give.” He tugged a shard from my foot, and I yelped. “Ezra, pass me that towel.”
“You don’t… But—” I flinched. “For God’s sake, stop it!”
The long-haired man snorted and looked to his companion—Ezra—who did not pass him the towel. “She’s bleeding. If Cyn’s with us, he’s going to have a fit.”
“There’s someone else here?” Alarmed, I twisted on the counter, straining to see into the living room.
Ezra finally stepped forward, grasping the towel with his long, pale fingers. He passed it to the man kneeling at my feet while his glacial blue eyes stayed fixed on mine. “If we’re both here, I’m sure they are.”
His lethal voice sent a shiver through me, a sound dark enough to stir tingles in places no burglar had any right to. His heavy black brow narrowed, as if he knew exactly what kind of thought he’d put in my head.
He looked so different from the man crouched at my feet.
Instead of jeans and a T-shirt, he wore a black button-down tucked into black slacks. He looked dressed for a dinner date. His inky-black hair was cropped short at the sides with the longer top swept back, a few rebellious strands brushing his forehead. The style suited his sharp jaw.
The abundance of black pushed his pale skin into stark contrast. He wasn’t bulky like the other man, but his shirt fit over broad shoulders and a narrow, defined waist.
He carried the captivating aura of a storybook vampire, and now I understood the draw of Maya’s books. I couldn’t deny the man’s abundance of sex appeal, but there was something else I couldn’t put my finger on. Something darker. Deadly. Powerful.
He didn’t move away, but he didn’t get closer either. His proximity made it easy to catalog every detail for the cops—and made it painfully clear I was cornered.
Predator.
The word, sharp and clear, sliced through my thoughts, making my heart pound.
No other word fit his presence and the power he radiated as his icy gaze snared me.
He was a predator, and the way he looked at me made it clear I was prey.
He broke my stare and looked down at the long-haired man plucking glass slivers from my skin. I jerked as he pulled a larger piece. How had he gotten the smaller bits without tweezers?
“Ezra, check this out,” another masculine voice called from the stairwell before I could ask him. The sweet and seductive voice reminded me of low whispered promises.
Okaaaay. Weird thought to have in the current situation. The cops don’t need to know that.
I twisted on the counter, but the long-haired man gripped my ankle. “Stay.”
Bristling, I said, “I’m not a dog.”
He chuckled low, the sound a rumble in his chest.
Everything was all wrong. Not only did the burglar tend to my foot, but he carried on like the whole situation was perfectly normal.
Newsflash, Mr. Marvel Demigod: It’s not.
None of this was normal, but picking a fight with the big man while the scarier man stood within striking distance didn’t seem smart—especially with what sounded like another man approaching.
Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, a younger man came into view. He moved with the grace of a panther, striding in our direction with his head lowered, eyes on the book in his hands. His messy black hair hid his face from view.
His alt style caught my eye. Black cargo pants tucked into tall combat boots suited his lean, athletic build. Tattoos decorated his left arm, hand, and fingers, the ink stark against his tan skin.
When his amber eyes lifted, landing on me, he jerked to a stop.
I sucked in a breath. I’d never seen someone so beautiful.
A tattoo climbed the left side of his neck from the collar of his black T-shirt, up to a jawline that could cut glass. The hollow dip above his jaw sharpened his cheekbones, and when he clenched the muscle there, he looked carved from marble.
He glared at me, then flicked the same look at his companions in silent question.
My head tilted. No.
The more I stared, the more I realized my mistake. He wasn’t glaring. His dark brows had a natural tilt, giving him the look of a permanent scowl over his gemstone eyes.
He stepped closer, then froze. His eyes rounded, his pupils swallowing the beautiful amber until almost nothing remained. He drew a lungful of air through his nose and shuddered.
What the hell was wrong with him?
When his tongue swept across full pink lips, I looked away.
The whole interaction mystified me. Everything about these men felt off.
Ezra stepped out of the kitchen, glass crunching beneath his boots as he approached the new guy. “You don’t want to go in there.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
“Something’s different.” He tilted his head back and scented the air. “It smells different.”
Not creepy at all.
They moved toward the entertainment center, but I still caught their conversation.
Ezra crossed his arms. “Don’t think too hard on it. Ash is taking care of it. We need to figure out how we got here so we can leave before Father discovers we’re gone. Where’s Zeke?”
Zeke? Another one?
The alternative guy glanced at the stairs and raked his fingers through his dark, tousled hair. His haircut was similar to Ezra’s, only messier on top. “Upstairs in the bathroom. Whatever brought us here upset his stomach.” He glanced around. “How the fuck did we end up on Earth?”
Earth?
“That should do it,” the man I now knew to be Ash said, wiping the last of the blood from my foot before standing over me. “You need to wrap this. Where’s your broom?”
“Um.” I looked down at the glass, wax, and blood on the floor. “I can do it later. But you really need to tell me why you’re here. I’m getting the feeling you’re not here to rob me. And you’re clearly not looking to hurt me, or you wouldn’t be tending to my foot.”
He flashed a charming smile, bright white teeth easing some of the tension. “No, sweet little blackbird, we’re not here to rob or hurt you.”
“Blackbird?”
He reached toward me and tapped my tiny blackbird earrings. Oh. I loved the little birds Maya gave me for my birthday.
“Now, you’re going to let me take care of this since it’s Ezra’s fault it happened.”
“It’s not my fault humans are sensitive creatures.” Ezra scowled at me as if I did something wrong when he was the one spouting nonsense.
Maybe they were dangerous after all. The guy beside Ezra looked at me like I was something to eat, and Ezra’s gaze held the kind of cold that made me flinch. Only Ash seemed kind and warm.
“The broom’s in the closet over there,” I said, glancing at my phone as he turned away.
Before I could grab it, a solid, warm body pressed against my back and a deep, soothing voice whispered in my ear, “Ignore Ezra. I do.”
Startled, I jumped off the counter, nearly stepping on the glass again. My back hit the refrigerator, and I hissed at the pressure on my foot.
Perched on the counter I’d just vacated, a lean man—similar in build and complexion to the alternative guy—smiled at me, blue eyes sparkling under the fluorescent kitchen light.
“Jesus, how many of you are there?”
Ash snorted, sweeping the glass into a dustpan.
The young guy pushed platinum-white hair from his forehead, the longer strands flopping over the shorter sides. He was leaner than the others, wiry strength showing in his frame. He shrugged. “Just us four.” He leaned back on his palms, black T-shirt bunching above his belt.
I gaped, and his lips curved into a broad, impish smile as he swung his feet.
He radiated trickster energy—mischievous, yet shadows lingered in his eyes, contradicting the boyish charm.
My nose wrinkled as I filed away first impressions of the men in my home: a hungry panther, a charming demigod, a cold vampire, and a mysterious trickster. Why did my thoughts turn to poetic mush around them?
Criminals, Rae. They’re criminals. Get a grip.
“Okay, can someone tell me why you’re in my house and why I shouldn’t be calling the police right now?” My gaze darted to the phone on the counter again.
Any other time, I’d have called the cops without hesitation. But these men gave me a strange feeling, and I never ignored my instincts. Even with the day unraveling, I knew to trust my gut.
“Your laws don’t exactly do anything to us,” the one sitting on the counter said.
“Everyone has to follow the law.” When he only shrugged, I looked at Ash—the only one who seemed approachable. “Why are you here?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s what I tried to say when I came downstairs,” the alternative guy said, holding up the old book the woman gave me and pointing to the symbol on its cover. “I think we’re here because of this.”
“Shit,” Ash murmured.